


Take a Bite

by KittyMotor



Category: Homestuck
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Humanstuck, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person, Romance, Trans Karkat Vantas, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyMotor/pseuds/KittyMotor
Summary: Dave signs up he and Karkat for a "totally no-homo" cake tasting.





	Take a Bite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Based on a cute drawing prompt my boyfriend and I did in which we tried cake together.  
> Also hooray I finally broke 3k words.  
> Rated T for language and mentions of anxiety, nothing too bad though.

     “You fucking did _what_?” I almost spit into the receiver. There was a strong, hot blush that crept onto my cheeks as I hold on to the phone so tight some part of me almost worries about bending it. I can’t help but shake despite me pacing around the breakroom. My free hand clutches the elbow of my other with white knuckles.

     “Yeah, bro, I signed us up for cake tasting! Isn’t that lit?” Hearing him respond so casually- even with a little bit of his stupidly charming breathy laugh- is infuriating. I can just imagine him now, the corners of his stupidly nice mouth twitching up ever so slightly and his stupidly nice eyes crinkling that I’ve ever only caught a glimpse of despite being his bro for goddamn years because they’re constantly hiding behind those stupid shades- stupid stupid stupid.

     “Dave, you insolent and idiotic self-flagellating piece of human shit!” My steps are so heavy I’m surprised I’m not leaving dents in the disgusting white-turned-beige tile. “You signed us up for a couples-only- no- _fiances_ -only thing!”

     “Nah, man, with us it’s a bros-only thing.” I feel my eye twitch as I suck in a breath, trying not to completely lose my shit while I’m still on the clock. He must hear the way I wheeze out a whine because he continues, “So, it’s at that little family-owned bakery on the same block as that coffee place and they have that thing, like, I dunno, twice a year? People can sign up for cake tasting and like I know that it’s for people getting married but we might as well be getting bro-married, right? Also I know that you fucking love cake, dude, so I figured you’d love to do it and have your best fucking friend with you to enjoy it with!” He sounds way too comfortable.

     “So, Strider,” I practically snarl his name, “how the ever-loving fresh hell are you gonna no-homo your way out of this one seeing as we’re going to have to pretend to be fiances?” I try to steady my breathing as I can practically hear the gears in his head turning to formulate some other ridiculous idea. “And before you even fucking suggest it I am not forgoing wearing a binder and throwing on a dress-”

     “Woah, woah, woah slow down Karkles, I wasn’t gonna suggest it! If either of us were pretending to be a girl you know it’d be me because I look damn good showing off these gams. We aren’t, though. We’re just two dudes pretending to get married soon for the sake of getting free cake. It’s 2018, we support the fake gays, Karkat.” I open my mouth to speak before getting cut off. “I know, you’re a real gay, but please come with me for this? It’ll be fun and I seriously owe you whatever you want if you do. Please please please?” He drags out the final please like a child and I can’t help but sigh, raising my free hand to pinch the bridge of my nose to try to dispel the already-forming headache.

     “Fucking- fine! Fine, Dave, I’ll do this stupid thing with you in your quest of being an asshole and taking advantage of some lady’s kindness giving away cake to happy couples!” I hear him laugh at my frustration and he just utters a drawn out yes before hanging up. I groan as I drop my phone back onto the plastic table with a clatter, running a hand through my already disheveled hair. The fluorescent lights do nothing to help my low, pounding headache, and I sigh as I try to unclench my jaw and roll my shoulders to relieve the tension. I pocket my phone after using the camera to fix my uniform and hair, tucking my stupid button-down into my stupid pants and trying to get in control over my stupid mop of curls on the top of my head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I don’t even realise he didn’t remind me we aren’t a couple the last time until I’m already back out on the floor of the restaurant. I almost spill some poor lady’s drink as I feel heat flood my face. I get sent home early for the day.

 

     I stare at my reflection in my bathroom mirror, taking in my own appearance critically. I look over my tattoo sleeve, beautiful blackwork spanning from my shoulder to just above my wrist so I can cover it with sleeves if need be. A death's-head hawk moth, bees, honeycombs, flowers and herbs, phases of the moon all work down my entire right arm in breathtaking detail. It’s easily my favorite part of my body. I tongue the posts of my snakebites, watching how they shift and I eye my gauges. They’re barely big enough to stick a candy cane through, which was my end goal seeing as that’s a pretty fun thing to do when the season is right. Dave at least thought it was funny. I feel myself deflate a bit as he crosses my mind and I push the heels of my hands into my eyes until I see spots, trying to will away any discomfort with the pressure. This shit is so gay and why do I have to be gay for him? I hit the back of my head on the wall with a resounding _thump_ and remove my hands. I should stop looking at myself before I think anything worse of myself. I really don’t need to be a depressed wreck over my appearance when I’m already going to be one over trying cake with my crush. God, that sounds petty. I shuffle over to my small, almost overflowing dresser and paw through my clothes, choosing a comfy pair of gray joggers and one of those t-shirts that has a cat in the front pocket that gives people the finger if you pull the fabric down just enough. It’s my favorite. Black shoes and a black beanie, and I even change out my gauges to match the pink of the shirt. A fashion expert is me. Kanaya would be proud. I find myself trying to get my front curls to poof out exactly right when I hear the telltale voice of Corey Hart letting me know my favorite douchebag with shades is on his way to my place so we can walk together. I don’t bother answering my phone. I’m too nervous. I pace my carpeted floors and dick around on my phone while I wait, scrolling through social media and playing Pocket Camp until there’s an easy knock on my door. I throw my phone and wallet into my pocket and open the door. Dave’s standing there, leaning on the railing opposite to the door. I can’t help but let my eyes trail over him before moving, taking in everything. He’s wearing red converse with skinny jeans and a red hoodie- that color-coordinating asshole, I wouldn’t be surprised if his earrings were red, too. They’re black studs, the lazy fuck. His blonde hair is just the slightest bit out of place from walking outside, but a single swipe of his hand fixes the straight locks back into their places. Freckles and scars mark his hands and face, both just barely tanned still from the summer, and an easy smile is just barely stretched across his chapped lips. I don’t let my eyes linger on his lips for too long, but it’s not like I can make eye contact through his mirror-like shades. I settle for turning around and making sure my door is locked before marching toward the cement stairs leading to the street.

 

     “You sure you ain’t cold in just a t-shirt, Kat?” his voice is smooth and fairly low, but I can hear through his accent just the slightest shiver from the cooler breeze. I scoff.

     “You damn Texan, yes, I’m sure I’m not cold.” I watch how he shoves his hands into the front pocket of his pullover and nuzzles into it just a touch. “If I weren’t more sure of where we stood I’d think that you were offering your jacket to me.” He turns his head to me and huffs.

     “Like I’d offer you the only thing keeping me from freezing my ass off- which would be a tragedy, by the way. Everyone in the United States would weep over the loss of the best ass this world has ever seen.

     “What’s so sad about losing an ass so flat one could use it as a table?” He removes a hand from his pocket to place it on his chest in mock offense.

     “Fucking ouch, man. That’s harsh.” He drops his hand as I just snicker in response, not really bothering to look at him. This sort of banter is completely normal, it’s comfortable. The comfort doesn’t last long, however, as we near the bakery. I just barely slow down as the smell hits me from down the road and I desperately hope to whoever is listening that Dave doesn’t notice. Apparently no one is listening, because of course he notices. “‘S something up, dude?” He looks back at me with what’s probably concern, just judging by his voice. I shake my head in response and catch up to him, following his pace again.

     “You and your lanky legs just walk too damn fast, I’m getting tired.” I mumble and shove my own hands in my pockets. I would have kept walking if he hadn’t grabbed my shoulder, pulling me to a halt. I glare up at him and tap my foot. “What?”

     “We’re just getting kinda close and, uh, I want them to not think anything is up.” He speaks lowly and I can feel something radiating off of him in waves, but I can’t tell what. “So, uh, when they ask questions about us I want us to be on the same page and answer with the same shit, okay?” I feel a deep blush redden my cheeks and I have a feeling that the cold isn’t the only thing making red dust his cheeks and ears. I barely have time to think it’s cute before I shove it down and nod my head for him to continue. “So, uh, I don’t think we have to change anything about how we met or anything like that, so we can just keep it the same with meeting in class in highschool and whatever. But, like, we could say we started dating a while after we started being friends and all that- oh do you want to be the one who asked me out or vice-versa because whatever could work. And who dropped the big question me or you? Also how did it happen because I’m sure they’re gonna ask and all that so what do you have in m-” I cut him off by smacking my hand over his running mouth; I’d probably growl at him if I could.

     “How about you shut the fuck up and we play it by ear? We each answer questions that come to us naturally and we act fucking normal rather than acting like the nervous wreck you’re being, sound good?” I can feel myself lose tension as I snap at him, like how a branch loosens up after breaking the ice off its bark. He nods and moves my hand from his mouth, taking a deep breath but not letting go. Why the fuck isn’t he letting go? I feel myself freeze as I look from our hands up to his face and he just keeps holding on even though he’s looking right at me. “Dave what the fuck are you doing?” I hiss at him, trying to suppress the nervous shiver that’s threatening to make its way throughout my body.

     “Well, I thought, like, normal couples hold hands, right? Why not hold hands while we walk up to the place we’re, y’know, supposed to be a couple in?” I hear an abnormal amount of nerves in his voice, pitching it up a bit and completely giving away his cool facade. He gives me a nervous smile to try to ease the tension and I sigh, shifting my hand so it fits in with his easily. Our fingers hook around each other and I feel that his palms are just about as sweaty as mine. At least I’m not the only one. He’s probably disgusted with this whole thing. He probably meant it as a joke. He pulls me forward, and it feels like he’s pulling me out of what felt like a wall of panic. I take a deep breath and steel my nerves as we near the storefront. The smell of pastry gets stronger and I can’t help but think, _the things we do for some goddamn free cake_ , as he pulls open the door and nods at me to go in with an easy, well-practiced smile.

     The woman behind the counter greets us with a smile and immediately coos over us holding hands. The warm air of the shop feels suffocating and I’m holding onto Dave’s hand for dear life. She leads us into a back room and talks the whole damn time, congratulating us and asking when the big date is and whatnot, all to which Dave answers with a surprising amount of ease while I just awkwardly smile and promptly forget the answers to any question she asks. She says another associate will be with us once they finish with the couple before us before closing us in the small room. I focus on the pattern of the carpet and I realise I haven’t let go of Dave’s hand. I untangle my fingers from his and wipe my hand on my pants, not wanting to look anywhere but the floor. It’s a very interesting color, really. I’m definitely not trying to not lose my shit, no sir. I suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder and I whip my head around to see Dave next to me, saying something that I can’t hear over the ringing and the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears.

     “-hear me, Karkat? Jesus christ, dude, don’t flip out on me.” I can feel myself shaking just a bit as a fresh wave of panic floods my system. I find myself looking at his hoodie rather than his face until his hand moves to my chin, pulling my face back up. His brows are furrowed and his lips are a tight line of concern. I can feel his eyes on me.

     “Dave I think this is a mistake.” I barely croak out between shallow and fast breaths. Just that sentence alone has me winded.

     “Damn, pal, what gave you that idea? What’s going on?” I can’t tell him, no fucking way. He’d laugh, or get creeped out, or something bad. Me, having a multiple-year-long crush on him is idiotic and weird, I should be able to put it away long enough to get through this one thing that’s supposed to be fun. “Listen, I can see that this is freaking you out more than I thought it would an I was hoping for this to just be a nice surprise, dude, or more of a grand gesture, actually.” I try to piece his words together, but they simply aren’t making any sense. A grand gesture?

     “W-what the fuck are you talking about?” I glare up at him, but there’s no heat behind the look. I’m mostly confused, especially when he takes my face in his hands. He’s holding me by the jaw and tracing his thumbs along my cheekbones. I realise at some point he took his shades off, they’re hooked into the front of his hoodie, and I suddenly am looking into the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I get lost in the pale-blue irises, splattered with red that also makes its way onto his sclera as if nebulae were tucked away into one person. I barely utter a “wow” under my breath as I take in everything I can about this one moment. “This has got to be part of this whole act… right?” I barely register that I asked it aloud until he gives me a small smile. It’s sad, nervous, but with something else in it, too. It’s genuine, vulnerable, so very not everything he puts out to anyone and I feel blessed I get to see it.

     “This isn’t an act, Karkat.” His face is so close to mine and I search his eyes for any clue that it’s a joke, some elaborate prank, but all I come up with is a warm feeling in my chest that I don’t know what to do with. I see his eyes fall to look down at- is he looking at my lips? I swallow hard and feel my breath hitch as he makes eye contact with me again, stroking my face gently. “May I kiss you?” he asks quietly, but it feels so loud in the silence of the room. I can’t help but let my eyes flick down to his lips, chapped but looking so soft in spite of a large scar running down the right side of his mouth. I look back up to his eyes and nod once, not trusting my voice to not shudder or crack. I can feel myself already shaking, but he holds me steady, leaning into a gentle, feather-light kiss. I almost forget to close my eyes and I move my hands to barely hold him by the waist, leaning in as well. It was as if he was worried I’d break if he weren’t more soft, but he held us there in one, single kiss for what felt like forever but not nearly enough time. He pulls away with a ghost of a sound, but still holds my face. I don’t realise I’m crying until he moves his thumbs to swipe away tears. “Was it really that bad, KitKat?” He lets out a breathy laugh and smiles at me, genuine, _loving_. I laugh, too, and shake my head, sniffing and wiping at my eyes with my fingers.

     “No, not at all. It was amazing- I never thought I’d be able to do that.” I look back up to him, that perfect look in his perfect eyes and that gentle smile playing on his perfect lips. Perfect, perfect, perfect. “Why’d you wait until now, you dick? It would’ve saved me a lot of stress.” I lean in and rest my head on his shoulder, feeling exhausted after the panic.

     “Because I wanted to do something big for you, babe.” I grin at the name and try not to cry anymore. “You deserve something big and grand and romantic like in all those shitty movies you like.” I huff at the insult to my movies, hugging him around the waist and relaxing into his touch as he hugs me back.

     “You’re such an insufferable prick,” I say, voice muffled by his hoodie.

     “Yeah, but I’m your insufferable prick, if you’ll have me.” I lean out of the hug and pull him into another kiss, less gentle, but what I hope comes across as just as loving.

     “I think I like the sound of that,” I whisper as I pull away, smiling as I bring our foreheads together.

     We try the cake, but that’s not nearly as memorable as everything else.


End file.
